Stygian Night
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: A collection of Death Eater drabbles. First: Alecto Carrow is ready to obtain the respect she deserves, no matter the cost. / Barty confronts Regulus about the locket.
1. Unworthy

**A/N: Hey y'all! So, I've decided that I'm going to start another drabble collection. We Won't Fall will be marked as completed at 100 chapters, and any other drabbles I write will fall under collections with more specific categories. **

**Word Count: 336**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

**WARNINGS: Extremely angsty, sadism and implied future torture.**

**Enjoy!**

Alecto's black eyes watched the Hogwarts Express glide into Hogsmeade station. Around her, the autumn leaves were browning and falling from their branches, giving the world a dead look that she rather liked.

Beside her, Antonin grinned. "Time to wrangle the Mudbloods, then."

She wrinkled her nose at the thought, but there was a large part of her that yearned for the blood that was sure to come; the blood she was sure to draw from the students' veins.

The students filed out slowly. Alecto noticed that the ones with Gryffindor ties jumped off first, stubborn in their notion that they could face what was to come fearlessly. The Slytherins came next, looking relatively at ease, though a handful were terrified. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs came in a mix, bringing up the rear.

Alecto relished the idea that those lights in their eyes would go out this year. She relished the idea that they would learn their place, that control would be taken. There would be no more impure blood at the school. There would be no more beasts milling about.

The unworthy would be separated from the worthy, and none would slide through Alecto's fingers. Just like the fall leaves, the Mudbloods would wither and drop under her care.

The wind picked up, lifting Alecto's limp brown hair and whipping it around her face. She pushed it impatiently behind her ear, but it was no use; the locks just wouldn't stay down.

Antonin chuckled beside her, and she turned to glare irritably at him. She knew she Amycus weren't the most respected of Death Eaters, though they were certainly some of the most cruel, and Alecto was determined that by the end of the month, her name would not be something anyone took lightly.

The students were approaching now, glancing fearfully at their Death Eater welcome party.

Severus Snape stepped forward to address his new students and introduce the staff, and Alecto grinned with anticipation.

When she took a step forward, the leaves crunched underfoot.


	2. Last Goodbye

**A/N: Hey y'all! Have some angsty BartyReg.**

**Word Count: 550**

**WARNINGS: Angst and language**

**Enjoy!**

Barty's eyes narrowed as he looked at Regulus.

"You're plotting something," he accused lazily. "And you haven't clued me in."

Regulus jumped guiltily, whipping around to face the other boy. They were residing in one of the Black family's many estates while on a mission for the Dark Lord, and Regulus had been acting oddly all week.

He'd been sleeping at odd hours, mumbling under his breath, and kept drafting letters, only to burn the attempts later. Barty spent the first week watching all this in tolerable silence, but now he was sick of paying his boyfriend that particular courtesy.

Regulus' grey eyes bore into Barty's blue ones. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't _lie_ to me," Barty said scathingly. "You haven't been yourself all week. If something's bothering you, you know you can come to me."

Regulus turned away now, a haunted look overcoming him. Barty hated to admit it, but it terrified him to see Regulus looking so desolate.

"Some things, Barty, are better left unsaid. You know that."

"Not from me," Barty stressed. "Fuck, Regulus. Not from _me._"

"You wouldn't understand." Regulus' hands were clenching into fists, which Barty knew meant that he was close to snapping; he'd seen this often enough when the Black brothers used to hash it out in school. "This isn't something I can… it's safer if you don't know."

"Has the Order threatened you?" Barty's voice was urgent. His blood boiled at the thought that anyone would make Regulus feel unsafe. He crossed the room and wrapped his arm around Regulus' shoulders, touching their foreheads together. "Because we can take care of that, love."

Regulus squirmed uncomfortably, his dark hair falling over his too-pale face. "No. That's… that's not it. It's not important—go focus on the mission."

Barty stared at him for another moment. His face was entirely expressionless when he spoke next. "This has something to do with the locket I found in your drawer, doesn't it?"

Regulus froze. Barty's breathing was ragged as he continued, despite the proof that he was correct in his assumptions.

"I thought it was odd, you see, that you had it at all. It's a family heirloom, yes, but you've always despised jewelry. You prefer your father's cufflinks, and even your family ring is kept in your pocket."

"Stop," Regulus rasped. "Stop." Barty didn't.

"So what made the locket special? I couldn't figure it out. Not only was it important enough that you picked it up, you brought it with you on a sensitive mission in a remote area neither of us have any intention of returning to. _Why?_"

Regulus shook his head, his hair falling about his face. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. "Barty—"

"No. Something is going on, and it's bad. I want to know what it is you're planning!"

Regulus stared at him. Slowly, he removed himself from Barty's tight embrace. Without breaking eye contact, he backed away. Barty let his arm fall to his side as he watched Regulus near the door. The younger man pulled the locket from his pocket, letting the chain dangle from his fingers.

"I love you, Barty." Regulus' voice sounded odd. Final.

Like a goodbye.

Barty took a step forward in panic, reaching out—

But Regulus Disapparated.

And Barty was alone.


	3. A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

**A/N: Hey y'all! Enjoy some BartyRegulus :) This was written for THC.**

**Word Count: 709 **

**House: Slytherin**

**Subject: Care of Magical Creatures**

**Category: Drabble**

**Prompt: (event) first kiss**

**Enjoy!**

Their eyes met across the room, and though Regulus could feel his heart speeding up, he cooly raised a brow at the older man. A grin was offered in return, and Regulus glanced away before his face could heat up and expose his true feelings.

The meeting with the Dark Lord was drawing to a close now, and Regulus watched as the dark wizard's followers slowly dispersed, and he waited for a majority of them to leave before turning to the person he knew would be behind him.

"Crouch," he murmured softly, not quite deigning to look at the other man. Blacks needed to maintain their stations, after all.

A slow grin lit up Barty Crouch Jr.'s face, his freckles cheeks straining from the magnitude of it. "Regulus Black," he greeted. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Regulus inclined his head; they'd been doing this for weeks, this glancing and meeting up after their audience with the Dark Lord. It felt oddly like courting; Regulus didn't mind. His family didn't care whom he spent his time with as long as, somewhere along the line, he produced an heir.

His future was wide open, and Barty was at the beginning of every path Regulus could see. He wanted to see where they led.

He followed Barty into the night, his heart pounding.

* * *

To Regulus' surprise, Barty took him to dinner that night. It was a nice, obscure restaurant, one that Regulus quite enjoyed. They ate their meal leisurely, and at one point Barty ordered them a bottle of wine.

Two glasses in, and Regulus' carefully constructed mask was coming undone. He found himself grinning at Barty, flattered by the attention of the man who was a couple years his senior. The alcohol put him more at ease, and Regulus found himself getting more and more lost in the moss-green eyes in front of him.

At one point, Barty laced their fingers together. Regulus didn't pull away. Maybe in the morning, when his head was clearer, he would regret this decision, but right now he just wanted to give into the urge of his attraction. There was a war going on, and relationships were messy. There was no guarantee that heartbreak wouldn't follow.

But, _oh_, Barty's hands were gentle as they cupped Regulus' chin. The Black's grey eyes stared intently at Barty's mouth. The older man's tongue kept darting out to wet his lips, and there was a small gap between his front teeth that Regulus had never noticed before.

When Barty began leaning forwards, Regulus placed a hand on his chest. "I've never done this before," he admitted in a soft voice. He'd never been so taken by someone before, and he wasn't the type to waste his time on meaningless relationships. As a result, he'd never been kissed. The fact had never bothered him before this moment.

Barty didn't laugh at his inexperience, though. Instead, he threaded his fingers through Regulus' dark hair and whispered, "I'll go slow."

So Regulus nodded, and Barty pressed their lips together. It was wet, sloppy, and warm, but it was a sensation that ignited a fire in Regulus that had never burned before.

* * *

When Regulus woke the next morning, groaning and stretching his arms, he wasn't as surprised as he should have been by the owl waiting patiently for him, a letter tied to its leg. Rubbing his palm against the dark stubble on his chin, Regulus reached forward to untie it.

He settled back against the pillows, then read the brief note.

_R. A. B., _

_Last night was fun. If you're interested, I think we should make it routine._

_B. C. Jr._

A slow smile spread across Regulus' face. Memories of the previous night flooded his mind—the easy conversation, the hands in his hair, and—best of all—the mouth pressed against his. Yes, that was definitely something he needed to pursue. He wanted to feel that fire again—he craved it. Regulus grabbed his wand off the bedside table and flicked it, causing a quill, ink, and parchment to fly into his waiting hands.

_B. C. Jr., _

_I think that would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. I'll see you tonight at seven, the same place as before._

_R. A. B._


	4. The Silent Sound of Loneliness

**A/N: Hey y'all! So… this is some pretty heavy Severus Snape stuff. You have been warned. **

**Word Count: 419**

**WARNINGS: Grief, mourning, mentioned character death**

**Enjoy!**

Severus was stiff-backed as he slowly stirred the contents of his cauldron, watching the potion within turn from olive green to indigo in a matter of seconds. He added some powdered Bicorn horn and stirred three times clockwise.

But even the methodicalness of potion brewing couldn't stop his mind from wandering to Lily.

Severus' hands shook, and he took a moment to compose himself. Potion brewing was a delicate art, and he couldn't afford to botch it. He needed to know that he could do this right.

He sure as hell hadn't done Lily right.

Severus cringed. Lily, sweet Lily… She had always been kind to him. She'd always cherished him, had always stuck up for him… she'd never been one to buy into the mainstream, she'd never bothered with prejudice. She had been an angel on Earth.

And it was his selfishness, his lust for power, that had killed her.

His black eyes squeezed shut. He was an adult, damn it. He would not cry for a woman who hadn't even been his.

But those green eyes never truly left him.

Severus quickly finished the potion, miraculously without mistakes, then set the many vials it filled down on his desk. He braced himself on the desk, then, as another wave of grief washed over him. His shoulders shook from his effort to keep himself together, but it was a battle he was losing.

He was alone now. Lily might have married Potter, but there had still been a chance at redemption when she was alive. Now she was buried six meet under, never to be seen again.

She was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

And he was left to haunt the land of the living, trying, somehow, to atone for an unforgivable mistake. He was destined to be miserable, it seemed. Destined to harm, to hurt… even those he loved.

And loved her, he had. He'd loved her so much, he'd let her go.

But it still hadn't saved her.

And then he was laughing. It was a deep, ragged, guttural sound, but it was the laugh of a man who'd lost everything and was _still here_.

It was the sound of hopelessness.

Later, Severus would sort through what needed to be done, and what he didn't need to waste energy on. He'd find out that protecting Harry Potter fell into the former category, while attempts at kindness fell firmly in the latter.

But for now, all he was aware of was his own grief and crushing sense of loneliness.


	5. Flight of the Coward

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some Black family angst. :)**

**Word Count: 593**

**Enjoy!**

_January 19, 1976_

_He did it. He actually did it. Sirius left. _

_Are Mother and Father right? Is there some sort of mutation in his DNA? I can't find any other explanation… Blacks don't abandon ship. They don't leave their family to rot. He calls himself a Gryffindor—courageous and brave—but when he came out of his room and met me in the hallway with his trunk in hand, all I could see was a coward. _

_But he did something strange. _

_He held out his hand to me before he descended the stairs (I was frozen; I couldn't speak, move… I could hardly even breathe) and asked me a question I never expected to hear._

"_Will you come with me, Reg?" he asked. _

_And I just stared at him for a moment. I'm not like him. Surely he knows that. But he asked me anyway, and I don't know why. Eventually, I answered him. It was a sorry response, but it was all I could manage._

"_I can't just leave Mother and Father."_

_I'm not very good at making decisions for myself. Father says that's my greatest shortcoming… and I'm inclined to agree. It is the one way Sirius can best me at the duties of a Black heir; he's never had a problem being selfish. _

_But then, he didn't just turn on his heel and leave. He frowned at me, his brows contracting. "They made their choice, I made mine." He gestured at the severed house-elf heads on the walls, then down at his trunk. "Now you have to make yours, because I'm leaving with or without you."_

_Here, I have to wonder—did I imagine the quaver in his voice? Did I see correctly the desperation in his eyes? Could it be that he truly wanted me to take his hand and leave my life behind, to live forever as an outcast?_

_I called Sirius a coward earlier, but that's a bit hypocritical, because I am a bigger one. The thought of being made a pariah terrifies me. It terrifies me so much, I might as well have disowned my brother, the way I spoke to him in response. _

_I won't repeat my words here._

_Now I have no brother. There isn't much emotion to accompany this fact; it simply is. I simply am. I exist, Sirius does not. Mother doesn't even permit mention of him anymore. _

_The problem is, he is still very much real to me. And while I hate to admit it, now that his responsibilities have befallen me, I understand why he felt like he was suffocating. It's incredibly hard to breathe when people are waiting for the chance to choke you. _

_I wonder, occasionally, what might have happened had I taken his offer. Part of me thinks he might still take me in if I change my mind. _

_But then I look in the mirror, and I know that I can't escape this life. I was never one to put myself at risk. Perhaps the true difference between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin is the type of selfishness he possesses: a Gryffindor is selfish for his own freedom, a Slytherin for the fruits of his ambition. _

_I think about this, and I ponder. Because it wasn't just selfishness I saw when his mouth turned downward after I told him my choice. It wasn't cowardice that slumped his shoulders when he crept down the stairwell. _

_And I think it must have been love, not regret, that prompted him to look back at me before he walked out the door._


	6. One Morning

**A/N: Hey y'all! Have some Lucissa :)**

**Word Count: 309**

**Enjoy!**

Narcissa's first few days of being Mrs. Malfoy were horribly lonely.

It wasn't that she didn't care about Lucius, or that he didn't care about her—quite the opposite, in fact. Narcissa could see them falling in love in the future. No, the problem was that they didn't know how to be comfortable around each other.

Breakfasts were awkward. Lucius didn't know what to say, and Narcissa didn't know what sort of wife he thought he had, so she stayed silent to be on the safe side. Her mother had drilled into her from a young age that a woman ruled behind the scenes. Narcissa didn't enjoy this idea, but if it would keep her from being a disgrace like her sister, then so be it.

So she danced their little dance. It was clumsy, it was awkward, but it was necessary. Lucius didn't seem to mind when she walked the halls of the manor, and she'd found herself growing fond of many of his ancestors hanging on the walls.

But portraits weren't a good substitute for company, and Narcissa had no wish to converse with the house elves.

She found herself wishing there was a way to escape the monotony of the weeks. She read book after book in the library, toured the manor, spoke with Lucius' great-great-grandmother about dress robes, and then would go to bed beside a husband who hesitantly pulled the duvet down for her.

Day in, day out, it was all the same. It was stifling.

Finally, nearly a month after they were wed, Naricssa walked into the dining hall to realize that Lucius was standing there waiting for her. He smiled, almost unsurely at her, and pulled out her chair.

The relief she felt at the change of routine was immense.

"Good morning," Lucius said in his deep, gorgeous voice.

Narcissa beamed. "Good morning."


	7. Bide My Time

**A/N: Hey y'all! Umbridge… ew. And I know, she's not a Death Eater... but I'm including her anyway. :P**

**Word Count: 333**

**Enjoy!**

Was Dolores jealous? No. She just wanted what she deserved.

Her mother was a Muggle. It was true, yes, but the only way to move forward in the world is to be pure. She deserved the privileges the purebloods could just hold their hands out for. She deserved the praise, the admiration. She deserved the power.

One day, they would applaud her like they did the Lestranges, the Potters, the Blacks, the Longbottoms—even Riddle, whose family Dolores had been unsuccessful in uncovering, was revered more than she was.

That wouldn't be the case forever, though. Some day soon, the tables would be turned, and Dolores would find herself on top. All it would take was a few lies to get there.

Dolores was ripped from her musings when the common room door opened. Her eyes narrowed when she saw who entered.

Tom Riddle, a few years above her, and highly successful, had just swooped in with his bunch of followers. His black eyes were dark and cruel, and his lips turned up in a condescending sneer when he saw her.

"Why, Dolores, don't look so sour. You'll ruin that… interesting face of yours."

Every fiber of her being itched to pull out her wand and hex him within an inch of his life. She wanted to make him take back his words, she wanted all the attention he had, she wanted his _life_.

But no one could claim that Dolores was a stupid girl, so she didn't express any of those things. Instead, she straightened her pink cardigan and said in a sickly sweet voice, "How very nice of you to look out for me, Tom. You'd best hurry now, though; I can hear someone calling for you."

Tom chuckled, not fooled in the least. It made Dolores' blood boil, but she would wait. One day, his name wouldn't be worth half as much as it was now. He'd be just another person, and she, Dolores Jane Unbridge, would be out on top.


	8. What Was Lost

**A/N: Hey y'all! This is RemusLucius. I know it's not the most developed story, but I wanted to write the pairing without diving completely into the AU or the beginnings of their relationship. If anyone's interested, I'll write a RemusLucius get-together soon. :)**

**Word Count: 1650**

**WARNINGS: Some mentions of injury, war**

**Note: Takes place during the first war. Remus has been injured by Death Eaters, and Lucius finds out about it. **

**Enjoy!**

When Remus opened his eyes, the first thing he registered was the pain.

Groaning, he shifted slightly, trying to ease his discomfort. It wasn't a searing ache, exactly; it felt as though it had been heavily numbed, but the pain still persisted. Remus recognized the sensation—he'd been under many pain-relieving potions before.

Against all sense, he fought his way into a sitting position.

"You really shouldn't be doing that."

Remus looked up in surprise, his amber eyes falling on the impressive figure of Lucius Malfoy. His mouth fell open slightly. He and his lover met in dark alleys and anonymous hotel rooms—Lucius was never in a public place with him.

And yet, here he was.

Remus cleared his throat and, after a few tries, was able to speak. "Why?"

Lifting a blond eyebrow, Lucius approached Remus' bed slowly. As he walked, he unclasped his white winter cloak, and, surprising Remus further, draped it over the younger man's shoulders. Remus clutched at the fabric weakly, his brow furrowing as he waited for Lucius' answer.

Finally, the other man gave it. "I heard you were in St. Mungo's. I… couldn't stand by."

Remus sucked in a breath. "You came for me."

Because that had been the catch, hadn't it? Wonderful, stolen moments in the middle of the night, only to wake and realize that he could only ever be Lucius' secret. Power, wealth… it always came first. Yet Remus had stayed. Sometimes he hated himself for that.

But Lucius was _here_, in broad daylight. It didn't make sense.

A hand, pale but strong, reached out to caress his scarred cheek. "You're infuriating, Remus Lupin," he said quietly. Remus bit his lip to keep from protesting, because if anyone was infuriating, it was make-no-sense-Malfoy.

"I wasn't supposed to love you," Lucius continued, his blue-eyed stare as bewitching as always. Still cupping Remus' jaw with one hand, Lucius used his other to push Remus back against the pillows. "I thought you wouldn't get in the way of what I have to do."

Remus drew back, unsure, but Lucius was unrelenting. "I thought we could be on opposite sides. I thought I could handle saying goodbye." He leaned down close, until he was a breath away from Remus. "But then I heard you were hurt… and I couldn't stay away."

"Damn it, Lucius," Remus whispered. "Just say what you mean. I can't think properly with these pain potio—mph."

Lucius' lips were warm and moved quickly against Remus' with a practiced ease. Remus let himself melt into the kiss, forgetting the war that had landed him in the hospital and his injuries for a moment. Lucius was finally showing him affection out in the open, freely offering his love.

He relished it while he could.

When Lucius pulled away, Remus was breathing heavily. Urgently, the blond man spoke. "Once you're well, I'll take you away from here," he murmured. "We'll go to an estate that no one knows about but me in France—far away from the fighting. I'll keep you safe."

Slowly, Remus' happiness ebbed away. "Lucius, I… I can't just leave." He ran a hand through his tawny curls guiltily. "As nice as that sounds, there are people here I just can't leave."

Lucius stared at him for a long moment. Outside, rain was pouring, pounding on the window. Despite the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, Remus shivered. Eventually, the Death Eater stood up, his face unreadable.

"There's no such thing as safe, is there? Not where you're concerned, at least."

"Nope," Remus answered softly. "There really isn't."

Shaking his head, Lucius clenched his hands into fists. "Why?" he ground out. "Why do you insist on running into danger? You are on the _hit list_. I'm giving up everything to protect you—"

Remus stiffened, growing angry; he wasn't always the bad guy. Lucius wasn't dominant in their relationship—Remus' standing was equal, and he made sure that Lucius knew it. "I'm happy here," he said stubbornly. "And maybe it's not safe, and maybe I will die before the year is over, but I—" He swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I'm going to protect my friends to my last breath."

"Your friends," Lucius argued, "will not accept me as your lover."

Remus closed his eyes. His chest was really beginning to hurt, and he wondered, suddenly, where the Healers were. Shouldn't they have come to check on him by now? "You're right, they probably won't," he said tiredly. "But they'll trust me. They won't harm you."

Lucius scoffed, the sound grating on Remus' nerves. "You mean if I desert and stay in Britain? You think the Order will take me in?"

"I think we can sort something out," Remus rasped.

"We're not supposed to be together."

Remus shuddered, drawing the cloak more tightly around himself. "So concerned about maintaining your image," he said softly. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? You want to be with me, but you can't stand the thought of being seen with me. Better you mysteriously disappear than tarnish your reputation by being with a half-blooded werewolf." Remus' shoulders shook as he tried to push away the tears that were threatening to fall. "I wish you would see _me_ as worth your time, too."

Lucius stared at him, stunned and unmoving. "That's not—you're twisting my words, I didn't mean—"

"Then show me that you meant something different!" Remus said hotly. "Stop hiding me away!" He dropped his head in this hands, his shoulders shaking. "I can't take it anymore."

A hand touched his back, and Remus jerked away. "Don't," he hissed. "Don't you dare—_ah!_"

His distress had aggravated his injuries, rendering the pain potion next to useless. He gripped weakly at the bandages around his chest—not all spell damage could be healed—gritting his teeth against the pain. Lucius stumbled forwards, off-balance because of his alarm.

"What's wrong? Remus?"

Remus screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe. "The Healers," he ground out. "I… shit."

Lucius nodded. "I can fix that," he said shakily, raising his wand. "_Accio_." A small potion bottle flew into his hand. He uncorked the medicine and held it to Remus' lips, helping the younger man to swallow.

The effect was almost immediate; the pain Rodolphus Lestrange's wand had inflicting faded back into a dull ache, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he whispered.

Lucius nodded. His anger seemed to have left him in the heat of the moment, leaving him uncharacteristically drained. Hesitantly, he laced his fingers through Remus'.

"I don't… I'm not ashamed of you. I'm afraid for you." If there was an emergency while you were working for the Order and I wasn't there… if I was ever forced to meet you on the battlefield…"

Remus, though still annoyed, felt some of his irritation subside. "I fear the same things," he said, regret clear in his voice. "But I can't… can't keep living in the shadows." He narrowed his eyes suddenly, a suspicion taking hold. "Where am I, exactly?"

Lucius stared at him blankly. "St. Mungo's."

"I meant specifically."

"The Malfoys' private ward. No one will bother us here."

Remus laughed weakly. "You had me moved?"

"Of course I did. They don't send competent Healers to the regular patients."

Remus nodded slowly. Lucius showed love in his own strange way. But Remus could see that he really did care.

"Please call in the Healers. I want to be out of here. And if you decide you want to come with me… there's room in my apartment."

He expected that to be the end of the conversation, and, truth be told, he didn't expect their situation to change. Lucius had spoken of deserting, but Remus didn't think he'd be brave enough to leave without fleeing.

But Lucius was hesitating by the door.

"Promise me something," he said slowly, staring his lover down. "If I leave them, you have to do your best to come back to me." Lucius sucked in a breath. "I need you to come back."

It was obviously a difficult admission. And that was something Remus understood; pride was a sensitive thing. But he couldn't promise his survival.

"I can try," he said slowly, "but you know as well as I do that the chances are slim."

Lucius crossed the room and then dropped a kiss to Remus' forehead. "Then I'm coming, my love." Lucius placed his hand over Remus' brow. "If there's a chance."

All the tension left Remus' shoulders. "Really?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

His lover was pale but determined. "Really."

Remus swallowed thickly. "This is a change."

Lucius exhaled slowly. "I think this was always bound to happen, really. Go to sleep. There's a place we can stay once you're well—I don't trust the state of your apartment."

Remus snorted. "Fine. As long as you're there, too."

Then Lucius left to go get the Healers, and a wave of exhaustion dragged Remus into unconsciousness.

* * *

"This is it," Lucius whispered to Remus. "No one knows of its existence, and it will do… even if it isn't the most glamorous."

Remus was leaning heavily on Lucius, still sore, as he stared at the heavily-warded property Lucius had managed to uncover in the three days Remus spent in the hospital. "It's perfect," he declared. "Come on, let's go in."

Lucius hummed in acknowledgement, but his fingertips kept wandering over to his forearm, where the Dark Mark lay. Voldemort would discover the betrayal soon; Lucius would need to be in hiding.

He squeezed Lucius' shoulder. "I'll protect you," he promised in a soft murmur. "Have a little faith."

They could lose everything, he knew. But there was still so much to gain.

He was still reeling that he'd gained Lucius.

The older man pulled Remus closer, not responding, but then led Remus towards the house. And that was okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

**A/N: **

**WC: Assorted Appreciation: 24. "I'm coming, my love."**

**WC: Disney Challenge: S1. Write about an unexpected meeting**

**WC: Trope of the Month: 19. (item) medicine**

**WC: Space: 17. (word) balance**

**WC: Book Club: Sam — (dialogue) "I can fix that.", (weather) rain, (plot point) forbidden relationship**

**WC: Showtime: 12. "I'm happy right here."**

**WC: Amber's Attic: 18. Write about someone experiencing a dramatic change**

**WC: Sophie's Shelf: S4. moving in together**

**WC: Press Play: 19. "Nope."**

**WC: Liza's Loves: 19. "I wish she would see me as being worth her time too."**

**WC: Angel's Archives: 1. (word) bewitching**

**WC: Scamander's Case: 26. (color) white**

**WC: Bex's Basement: 11. "There is no such thing as safe."**

**WC: Film Festival: 22. (word) emergency**

**WC: Marvel Appreciation: 7. (characteristic) brave**

**WC: Lyric Alley: 12. For weak and for strong**

**Stickers: Rare: St. Mungo's**

**Northern: Bingo: [25] "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." - John Lennon**

**Eastern: Yuletide: Step 1: (action) stumbling**

**Southern: Paper Chains: RemusLucius - (object) winter cloak**

**Galleon: "Promise me something."**

**Fortnightly: Bookworm Club: LotR: "Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, although you do not see them." - JRR Tolkien**

**107\. Dominant**

**981\. (title) What Was Lost**


	9. Deserving

**A/N: Hey y'all! Have some hurt/comfort FenrirLyall. (And yes, I'm counting Fenrir as a Death Eater… just because.)**

**Word Count: 427**

**Enjoy!**

"Oh, Lyall. I told you not to fall in love with me."

"Shut up," Lyall said firmly. "I mean it, Fenrir. You're not—you're not—"

Ice blue eyes fixated on the stuttering man. "I am," he argued almost viciously. "I am a werewolf." He ran his hands through his hair; Lyall noticed they were shaking. "I lose more of myself every day—I told you, didn't I? I told you not to fall in love with me…"

And he had. Lyall remembered all the times Fenrir had protested that any endeavor of theirs could only end in disaster, all the time he himself had refuted those claims with tender kisses and fiery bouts of passion. Fenrir has given in eventually, and now that Lyall had what he wanted, he discovered that it wasn't the happily ever after he'd yearned for.

Fenrir has admitted that he blacked out at times, that sometimes _Fenrir Greyback_ disappeared, only to open his eyes some time later and realize that he'd done something awful—outside of the full moon. His very humanity was slipping away.

Maybe it was the romantic in Lyall, but he couldn't help but feel like there was a way to recover what had been lost. There wasn't a cure—there might never be a cure—but there had to be a _treatment._

Fenrir's hands were lying such a short distance away. And it scared Lyall, because this curse was slowly taking away the man he loved. It was twisting Fenrir into something he wasn't, and no one knew how to stop it. But he wondered if... if all he had to do was be the anchor. Surely, the worst symptoms of lycanthropy emerged from the isolation the curse forced upon the inflicted? Maybe the mind withered away because of the constant psychological strain. Maybe he could pull Fenrir back into himself.

"No." He took Fenrir's hands in his own, surprising the scarred man. "No, that's not what I was going to say. You—you are a werewolf. I understand that. I—I accept it." Lyall swallowed. "But you're not a monster. So I'm not walking away. I'll help you, however I can."

Fenrir stared at him, his face unreadable. Finally, he dropped his forehead against Lyall's.

"You're already helping," he murmured. After a moment's pause, he added in a choked voice, "You're an idiot."

Lyall stole a kiss. "One who loves you," he promised. "One who will work with you tirelessly to withstand the darkness."

Fenrir's voice trembled. "I don't deserve you."

Lyall grabbed his lover's face and whispered fiercely, "You have _always_ deserved me."


	10. Be My Everything

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Have some RegulusRabastan while I procrastinate. :P**

**Word Count: 406**

**Enjoy!**

He hadn't meant to fall in love with Rabastan.

It had happened slowly, as far as Regulus could guess. A smile the older man shot him after a particularly long day, the quiet confidence Regulus wished he owned himself, the skill with which he wielded a wand… he'd recognized all these things in Rabastan slowly, like he was solving a puzzle one piece at a time.

Of course, once he realized that he was falling for the other man, Regulus had tried to stop himself. He'd avoided getting paired with Rabastan on missions, he didn't look at the other man when the Death Eaters all assembled—he avoided him as best he could.

But Regulus' heart ached more for Rabastan the longer they stayed apart.

Then, one day, Rabastan, realized what he was doing.

He approached Regulus after a Death Eater meeting, his dark eyes pinning Regulus to the spot. His head tilted ever so slightly to the left, as though he was mildly curious about why Regulus seemed so flighty.

"I hope you're not leaving."

Years of conditioning allowed Regulus to mask his emotions effectively; he was certain that none of his heartache was apparent on his face. "I wasn't planning on staying. Is there any reason why I shouldn't go?"

They both knew it was a challenge. Regulus held his breath waiting for an answer—which answer he wanted to hear, he wasn't sure. He just needed to know if this space, this distance, was hurting Rabastan as much as it hurt him.

"Well…" Rabastan jerked his head towards the door. "I was going to grab a pint, if you're interested."

Regulus' heart simultaneously soared and sank. On one hand, his parents couldn't complain about the time he spent with Rabastan; he was from an old, respectable pureblood family. On the other hand, if they were to ever guess at the reason he was growing closer to the other man… he wasn't sure what they'd do. Either arrange a marriage he wasn't ready for, or tell him to abandon those interests in favor of serving the Dark Lord to his fullest.

But the way Rabastan was looking at him right now, dark eyes completely fixated on Regulus with nothing but hope in their depths, made Regulus realize just how much he wanted to feel like someone's everything.

He nodded to Rabastan, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips.

"I'd like that very much."


End file.
